Archibald G. Brown, November 6, 1892, East London Tabernacle
"Hitherto shall you come but no further — and here shall your proud waves be stayed!" Job 38:11
The night was a wild one on the southern shore of the Isle of Wight. Throughout the day the wind had been blowing with increasing strength; and, as evening came on, the sea rose mightily, so that when the darkness settled down there was a fair storm blowing. The moon struggled through the tattered clouds, for the lightning-flash was flying fast, and looked, with all its ragged edges, as if it had been suddenly torn from the black canopy of Heaven by the giant hand of the storm. The fitful moonbeams fell upon a wild, tumbling, roaring, waste of waters. It was near high tide.
We came out in front of our house and stood in the balcony watching the seething mass of water. It was a fine sight. The waves curled and broke upon the sea wall. Hurled back, they only returned to meet the next advancing wave, and then in a wild embrace the two together thundered on, and so over and over again.
Far away were to be seen, in the moonlight, line after line of advancing billows. They looked like chargers rushing on against that wall, and each one seemed to hiss to its fellow, 'I will back you up!' Endless reinforcements seemed to be coming towards the shore. There was but a roadway between us and the deep, and it sounded almost like presumption to say, 'Well, it is time to go to bed now.' What? Go to rest with destruction so near? Talk about calmly sleeping when, within a few yards, there is power enough to sweep everything away? Yet we said, 'Better go to rest now', for, taking out our watch and looking at the hour, we saw that it was high tide. 'It will not come any further', we remarked.
No sooner had we uttered these words, than they started this train of thought: What perfect faith in the law of nature does this sentence set forth. I dare to stand within a few yards of a roaring sea like this, and calmly suggest that it is time to go to rest, because it has reached its highest point and there will be nothing more to see. What faith in the law of the tide! Yes, behind those crested waves there was a power mightier than the storm, unseen — but wondrously real. Driven by those winds, the waves, like mad chargers, may leap and rush — but there is an unseen hand holding them, and saying, 'Thus far. No further. It is high tide. It is time to go back.'
The sea cannot go beyond the line of decree. The Lord has said, 'Here shall your proud waves be stayed.' No sooner had we said, 'It cannot come any further; it is time for the tide to turn', than it flashed through our mind, 'But suppose that it should forget to turn. It is all very well to talk like this and be so calm — but suppose that it should not turn, and that for the next six hours, instead of receding, it should still advance. Where would you be, and where your abode, and where all your loved ones?' But then we remembered, 'But this law is as certain in its action, as the rising and setting of the sun.'
The others went to rest — but I remained for some time gazing out upon that wild surging sea. I know not how long I stood — but, as I gazed upon it, it preached to me; and, as I looked at it, it seemed to assume different forms.
I want it now to preach to you, as I tell you as far as I can what I saw in that raging sea trying to get beyond the barrier that God had set, and yet finding that the eternal word is true, 'Thus far, no further!' God has a 'Here' at which the wildest waves must stop.
As I looked I saw, first, Hell's forces restrained.Then the scene changed, and I beheld temptations limited.And then a cough upstairs reminded our heart of sorrows measured.And then, lastly, as I looked out, I saw apostasy arrested.Let me try to give you these different lessons of a stormy night.
I. First, we have HELL'S FORCES RESTRAINED. Now, I know that Satan in his personality, Satan in his craft, Satan in his power, Satan in his wrath — is very far from being a reality even to a great many professing Christians. I know that the spirit-world is all too little thought of, and the world that we can see, is to us ten thousand times more real than the world which we cannot see; though, in my heart of hearts, I believe that there is a spirit-world, not thousands of miles away — but all round about us, and as real as the world of men and women which we see. We pass in and out among spirits, good and bad. They are round about us on every hand.
But that foaming sea spoke to me, not of the gentle ministry of the unfallen angels — but of the awful, damning ministry of Satan and his followers. I said just now that Satan is all too little of a reality with most of us, and yet, mark you, if the Bible is true, Satan is the most dreadful reality conceivable! I ask you to listen for a moment to words in which this truth is better put than I can express it on the spur of the moment: 'The question of Satan's personality is one relating to the credibility of the Scriptures. The existence of the devil is so clearly taught in the Bible, so necessary a part of the revealed word, so legible on its very face, and so thoroughly interwoven with all its utterances — that to doubt it is to doubt the authenticity of the Bible itself. The entire system of revelation stands or falls with the personality of Satan, not that he is essential to truth — but that the very verity of the record concerning him is essential to God's honor and our hope. This fact has worked itself out in history.'
Let me say for a moment, in parenthesis, mark and see whether this next sentence is not true of today: 'In all ages of the church, unbelief in this doctrine has been marked by a corresponding unbelief in the Scriptures. The man who can reject a doctrine so fully revealed as this, will find no difficulty in rejecting all if it ever suits him to do so.'
So long as we accept this Bible as a revelation from God, we are bound to accept this solemn, mysterious truth — 'that there is a being of fearful might and power who is wicked, always wicked, totally wicked, incurably wicked; a being who is an absolute stranger to all love, all pity, all goodness; a being who is the embodiment of all malignity, the concentration of all wrong, the essence of all vice; a being who has no one bright spot in his black character; a being who, if he could, would quench every sun that shines, extinguish every star that twinkles, blight every flower that blooms, and turn every song that rises from consecrated lips into a lewd lascivious song; a being who, if he could, would turn Heaven itself into Hell. He is one whose heart is hate, whose mind is revenge, and whose life is an eternal damnation.'
And this bizarre, inscrutable awful being, we are told, is the master of uncounted legions who serve their captain with an unswerving fidelity such as an earthly monarch never knows. At his beck and call are spirits that are lying, seducing, unclean, and murderous; and these forces of Hell never cease to surge and roll on God's fair earth. Without pause or hindrance, Hell seeks to swamp, damage, and damn the works of God. I say not that the storm is always equally high. It is not so. I believe that there are times when Hell's power is greater than at others. Beyond all question it was so when the Son of Man walked this earth. Oh, how the ocean boiled then! It seemed as if the word had gone forth through all the hosts of perdition, 'Fight neither with small nor great but with the King only.' None of us can ever tell what Christ passed through in personal combat with Satan.
Now, mark, if you are going to make a semi-joke of the devil, if you are going to speak of Satan as simply a name for something that is impersonal, you are doing an awful wrong to your Lord. If you can only prove your point, you prove too much, for you prove that Christ himself was a dupe. I find the Savior, when he stood foot to foot in the wilderness, saying distinctly, 'Get you hence, Satan.' I never find our Lord explaining away demoniacal possession as it is fashionable to do now. Jesus came to reveal truth. Jesus came to clear the world of superstition. If the poor creatures whom he healed simply had epilepsy or fits, our Lord knew it; and yet he never uttered a word to clear away the common superstition. Indeed, he endorsed the superstition of the day, for he said, 'Come out of him, you unclean spirit.' We say with all reverence that in such a case our Lord added the weight of his personal testimony to a popular fallacy. But he knew, and he saw demon power working on every hand. When he is arrested in the garden, what does he say? Not only, 'The hour is come' — but he adds, 'and the power of darkness.' The tide of Hell reached its highest point at Calvary; and, as I gazed from the balcony upon the boiling waters beneath, I seemed to see the scene.
Behold Jesus there upon that tree. How do the billows beat upon that breast! How do they roar upon him! He is enveloped. He is drenched with the spray. We hear in the darkness, 'My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?' and my heart asks, 'Will the tide never turn?' and I think I hear a voice saying, 'The tide has reached its highest point. It can go no further now.' He lies there dead in the tomb. But look you. On the third morning he comes forth in resurrection beauty. Ah, Satan, how are you defeated! God said by that tomb, 'Thus far, no further.' He said at that tomb, 'Here shall your proud waves be stayed.' Having no personal Christ on earth to contend with, Satan now devotes all his power to Christ's people, and he is seeking ever to swamp the church. Christ said, 'Upon this rock will I build my church, and the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it.' Jesus knew very well that the gates of Hell would ever be belching forth their animosity and power against the church. At your leisure read the 6th chapter of the Ephesians. The Holy Spirit there says that we wrestle not against flesh and blood — but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world of rulers of this darkness, and against wicked spirits in high places. O brethren and sisters, round about each one of us there is a roaring tide of hellish hatred. There is enough to make each one ask, 'Can I ever be kept? Must I not be swept away by this irresistible flood?'
Thank God that there is a 'Thus far', for, listen: Christ said to Peter, 'Satan has desired to have you that he may sift you as wheat — but I have prayed for you.' O you blessed living Christ, we look to you. Fling back the advancing tide, and, by your power, the very weakest saint shall be more than a match for Hell. Come, dear soul, though you may be belted with Hell's power, there is a'Thus far and no further.' A mightier power than the mighty one, holds back the tide of Hell. 'Here shall your proud waves be stayed!'
II. The scene changed, and, as I looked out on the sea, I beheld TEMPTATIONS LIMITED. This is a branch of our previous head, and yet it is quite distinct from it. The first is the objective fact — and this is the subjective experience. Satan may set the waves rolling — but there would be very little weight in them apart from the aid of my own sinful nature. If there were only an outside Hell, there would be but little danger. There is, alas! an inside nature that is corrupt. I daresay that I shall be speaking to some who will not understand much of what I am saying. For years there may be little more than the ordinary swellings of temptation. I think that, generally speaking, the young convert knows but little of the wild scene which I want to portray. He knows something of being tried by the ordinary temptations of daily life — but nothing else.
But there will come the day when the wind blows from the right quarter to make a heavy sea. Everything depends upon the quarter from which the gale comes. The wind may be blowing ever so strongly from the west — but you will have it calm in the bay of Sandown. That which sends the thundering billows on the shore at Black Gang will raise no sea at Sandown. So every one of us has his right — or rather wrong — quarter; and here may be the reason why some have never yet known any awful temptation; that which fills a brother's soul with a boiling ocean of spiritual agony, does not affect you.
But wait. There will be a time when the wind will be dead on shore for you. Some particular temptation will awake you to the fact that you have within you a capacity for sinning of which you never dreamed. I think that it was Martin Luther who said that no man could be a good preacher without having had much temptation. Oh, what degrees of temptation there are! I can say before God, that I think I have known more temptation this one year than I have known in any five that have gone by.
Did you ever know, man, what it is not only for the wind to be in the right quarter — but to have a high spring tide at the same time? What a sea runs then! You can look out and see not only one billow — but another billow behind it, and another behind that, and another behind that — temptations physical, temptations mental, temptations social — one rolling after another.
